Chapter 9
Luke
I tucked Emma against my chest, bundling her as close as possible as we rolled off this first part of the roof. We dropped fast, and I took the brunt of the hit onto the next level down. My back radiated with pain, but I grunted and toughed it out. I refused to loosen my arms. I would not let her go and let her be hurt any further.
The sight of her swollen face angered me. I’d never forget the experience of witnessing her in pain, of her being wounded by anyone.
I’d already failed her in letting her be hurt at all. Jimmy warned me that I’d be starting a war by insisting that I keep Emma in my life. She’d worried about the same, after the fact.
Letting anyone target her in this supposed war was not going to happen ever again. I wouldn’t let her down, because after seeing her taken away the way she was, I wasn’t sure I’d want her out of my sight.
Again, we dropped down onto another roof. Everything blurred. Details ceased to weigh on me as I held her tight to my chest. In the distance, I caught the sounds of men shouting and yelling.
But no gunshots.
They’d want me dead for spiriting her away. Yet, they wouldn’t fire on her, likely needing her alive to deliver her to Antonio as promised.
Not happening.
My side slammed into a steeper cut of a roof, and that stop was all I needed to gain purchase. On my feet, holding Emma securely, I leaped down to another shorter structure. From there, I let her sit so I could lower to the pavement. Hurrying to turn back and hold my arms up to her, I gave her the chance to drop into my embrace.
The second she took that leap, bold determination written on her face, I took pride in how she knew I’d catch her. I always would, and as soon as I got us to safety, I would make up for the mistake of not realizing how quickly this “war” could start.
We ran together to the car her friend had brought close, and once we were inside, I put my foot to the pedal and sped on it.
“The gates to the right. Go. They’re older and not as reinforced.”
I nodded, aiming that way and plowing straight through them. Now, they fired. Perhaps they hadn’t received direct word from the men inside yet. They patrolling men aimed. Bullets pinged off the driver door. Windows webbed from hits as well.
None of them succeeded. Emma and I weren’t struck with any ammo. And the SUV sped along as I needed.
“Are you okay?” I demanded. Sitting and no longer on the run or fighting, I stole the chance to finally catch my breath. I split my attention between the road and Emma, finding her crawling closer to me.
“I should be the one asking you that.” She pressed her cool, soft fingertips to my face. It seemed she wouldn’t be content with seeing that I lived, she had to feel me, almost like a reassurance that we were back together again. One whole day and most of the night had passed with us torn apart, and this moment was too sweet not to embrace it and cherish it.
“I’ll be fine,” I told her, then I quickly filled her in on what I’d gone through to get her back. Calling Jimmy, trespassing at the Rossini residence, and then later, the fight that Antonio had rigged against me.
“You saw Marlo?” she asked as I drove away, continuously checking in the mirrors for anyone who might be following. She looked as well.
“I did. Sack of skin and bones. He looked like he’d been in bed for a decade.”
She huffed. “That’s about as long that he’s been out of the public’s eye.”
I didn’t want to talk about him. “They tazed me after the fight and brought me to a warehouse. Antonio tried to talk shit, saying that you were promised to him. That was how I finally got my answer of where exactly, you were. That was when I pieced together the clue that your father was the one behind taking from you the Tropican.”
“Yeah. It was him. He heard the same rumors about us. People who saw us at that party must have spread word fast. Or, someone at the Tropican told him.”
I arched a brow, hating how much it hurt to move my face like that. “The staff?”
“The Tropican is my father’s resort. He ultimately owns it, but the deeds and documentation goes through layers of shell corps.”
All this time, I’d been working for her father and I never knew. Now that I had to kill him for ever raising a hand at her, it seemed ironic. Don’t bite the hand that feeds? I intended to bite it right off and watch the owner suffer.
No. No more killing. Not for tonight or anytime soon. I drove away, twisting and turning through the streets to better lose any trail. Having Emma seated beside me, gazing at me with worry about my injuries, I instantly felt calmer and more at peace. It lowered my guard with the more distance I put between us and the men who’d want us dead. And with that peaceful mood, I reflected on how many deaths I’d caused tonight.
The Marchese fighter in the ring. Probably one of the Marchese soldiers who’d come at me in the warehouse. I doubted I killed the man I hit to steal a car from in my efforts to follow Antonio to the Giordino estate. But then once I arrived and snuck through Emma’s home, I ended up killing that Giordino guard who’d wanted to whip her with that chain.
Too many deaths. Too many too soon. I didn’t regret ending their lives. They’d all posed a threat to me or Emma, and that wouldn’t be allowed. At the same time, this wasn’t who I was. Yes, I could kill people, but I tried my best not to become a vigilante or mass murderer without a cause. My kills had a just cause though, and with that reasoning, I shoved back the thoughts that could nag me later.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
I loved hearing her say we . It would always be us. Me and her. Together for good.
“My friend’s relative has something like a safehouse.”
“Ah. Is it currently occupied?”
I shook my head, wincing at the tension in my upper back. From the falls, the fighting, or something else, I was exhausted. “No. It hasn’t been used in a while, but I think they keep it as something to know is there. Just in case.”
“Are they affiliated with any families?”
“No. Randy’s relatives might have gotten a little too close to the wrong side of the law with dealing drugs, but they don’t do that anymore. None of them.”
“In other words, somewhere Antonio’s men or my father’s men won’t know to look for us.”
“Exactly.” I couldn’t take her back to her condo at the Tropican. And I wouldn’t risk bringing her to my mother’s. I had to call back Jimmy, but I didn’t have my phone with me. Still in the athletic gear that I wore to that fight, I had nothing in my pockets.
She didn’t seem to either. Just the clothes she wore.
I glanced over.
And my ring. She still had it, and I sighed as I took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “What the fuck is with this medieval shit?” I gestured to the metal band on her forearm.
“My dad’s. All his men use them for when they bring in rats or traitors or enemies. To torture them or outright kill them.”
“Isn’t it a little old-fashioned?” I asked, curious because it seemed like an unreliable means of securing people.
“No more or less than the concept of arranged marriages are,” she retorted. “I’m just glad Krista found a keyring and was able to get the one off my ankle.” She proceeded to fill me in on what happened. How she was captured, brought home, and visited by Antonio.
My blood burned hotter with the mentions of that asshole. Between Damon Giordino and Antonio Marchese, I had my shit list filled at the moment. Both of them would suffer, but not until I could make sure Emma was really all right.
She didn’t seem dainty or too traumatized with all the violence, but I knew how she could hide and try to lie. For all I knew, she could be suffering inside and fighting to keep a brave front up.
Once we reached Randy’s safehouse, I scoped our surroundings and made sure it was all right to head inside.
Even though the building was rundown, the exterior was a fa?ade. The neglect and wear-and-tear look was intended to be a decoy, but inside, behind a fancy lock pad and security system, the place was furnished and decent. It wasn’t anything like that fancy mansion I’d just rescued Emma from, but it wasn’t a ratty shithole either.
“Let me see that thing.” I led her to the kitchen, planning to get that damn cuff off her arm. All the skin was rubbed raw. Parts were bleeding, and it all looked so angry.
I positioned her near a counter, and as I tried to pick at the lock with a knife and fork, she cleared her throat.
“I was desperate to get free,” she explained, likely realizing how I’d noticed her raw flesh.
“I was desperate to get you free too,” I replied, meaning every word. I lifted my gaze to hers, mesmerized by the light blue-green of her startlingly bright eyes.
Even though I’d caught my breath, I still felt like I was running high on adrenaline. This rush of fighting and running and getting away gave me addictive charge. Looking into her eyes and seeing the same devotion and contentedness in her expression, I felt eager to act on this feeling of hope.
We’d been so desperate to get back to each other, and now that we were, I was impatient to sink into her and really feel all of her, to feel like we’d come home to each other in the most intimate way possible.
I worked on breaking off this cuff, trying to ignore the pangs in my heart at how close I’d come to losing her. More than once, I worried that I’d lost my fiancée on the same damn day that she became it. Just seeing her and sharing the same space with her went a long way to appeasing how high-strung I’d been, fighting my way to her and searching for her.
The moment the metal halves split apart, forced open from the jimmying with the knife and fork, she lunged into my arms. She’d been affected by that same lull of desire and need. Her lips crushed against mine, causing the slight split to sting. My face ached with the pressure of kissing her, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t. With her in my arms, nothing could be wrong. Now that I had her, I wasn’t backing down or letting her go.
We kissed as I carried her out of the kitchen. I wasn’t familiar with this place, so I stumbled into a few pieces of furniture along the way, but I had a hunch a bathroom would be near the back.
Hard and fast, we made out like we’d never be able to break apart. Her enthusiasm and neediness had me hard in seconds, and I hoped she’d be ready to take me rough this time.
She was still so new to sex, so recently losing her virginity, but I had faith she’d learn what she liked with me. Tonight, right here, she’d be able to determine if she liked hard, fast shower sex.
I set her down to stand in the bathroom, then I reached in to turn the faucets on. She wasn’t patient to wait, and as I stood upright again, she tugged at the waistband of my sweatpants. I wasn’t too far behind her, ripping off her clothes and getting her naked. Her fingers were deft and quick, and I loved how determined she was to get me bare too.
Picking her up again, I moved toward the shower. Her sharp inhale of pain made me pause.
“What?” I licked my lips and panted. I was exhausted. I needed sleep, but not without reconnecting with this woman who owned my heart. “Did I hurt you?” I lifted my hands from her hips, turning her a bit. A plethora of reds and purples smeared in a wide circle high on the back of her thigh, practically at her ass cheek.
“He kicked me there,” she explained before pulling my head down for a kiss.
He’s dead. I didn’t care if he was a mafia boss and I was the son of his rival. I was Emma’s fiancé. I was her man, her protector, and I would avenge her, regardless of who it was.
Here and now, though, it wasn’t a time to plot murders or plan on revenge.
It was time for the opposite—to let our bodies dictate what we wanted, which was a deep connection. A reunion and celebration that we were alive and together again.
She eased into my hold so she didn’t hiss in pain. I carried her into the shower, wetting us both. Her lips didn’t leave mine. My hands stayed firm on her ass.
Our skin was slick and slippery from the water. I felt grimy and filthy. Ragged, and bloody, sweaty, too. She didn’t care. She didn’t make a single move to get out of my hold and insist that we clean ourselves.
It could come later. I was possessed, under a spell to sink my dick deep inside her. It wasn’t right to be this possessive of her, but I was beholden to this desire.
We didn’t try to initiate any foreplay. The need I had for her too was too demanding, too gritty.
I felt the slickness of her cream against the root of my dick. It was hard, long and stiff as it slid beneath her, so close to that sweet, tight pussy that would always belong to me, no one else.
Pressing her against the shower stall, I gave her a balance and support. She leaned back, giving me room to position my cock at her wet hole.
Then I drove in. I didn’t wait. I didn’t stall. I thrust into her like I’d combust if I didn’t.
She cried out at the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She was wet, so ready and eager to take me deep inside. It was a shock to the system, wedging every inch of my shaft into her greedy pussy that sucked me in tight. But I overrode it. Inside her like this, I was a goner.
I pulled out and slammed in again. Harder. Faster. I fucked her so roughly, so brutally, that her breasts jiggled and swayed. Her legs hung heavy, wrapped slightly around my waist. I held her ass and with her upper body leaning against the wall, I had a perfect angle to hold on to her ass and pull those firm but juicy cheeks toward me.
Ramming into her hard and fast like this was different than the little we’d shared in the bedroom so far. But she took it. She came too soon, squeezing on my dick as her orgasm hit her. Her legs shook, pushing against mine, and with that sexy gasp that left her lips, I growled and pounded into her faster, rubbing upward to really get all I could out of the friction. It prolonged her orgasm, taunting her to cry out again.
At that sweet sound, I lost it. I shot my cum inside her, tensing at the euphoria that cut through me.
“I love you,” she uttered, out of breath and looking dizzy with satisfaction and relief from coming so hard.
I sighed, hearing the ultimate music to my ears. I would never tire of hearing her say those three all-important words. “I love you so fucking much, Emma.” Kissing her once, I showed her the depth of my affection. I shivered as she slid her arms over my shoulders. The slow caress of her soft skin over mine sent goosebumps breaking out. It felt good, like a tender caress of aftercare.
This time was brutal and fast. Next time... I’d treasure her and show her all the tender caresses of aftercare I would give her.
I rested my brow against hers. The shower rained down, and with the thrum of the drops pelting on the floor and the walls, I fell into a deep state of serenity.
All would be well in my life if I kept her with me, limp and sated, sleepily sighing and so in love. This was my peace. She had become my reason to live.
But I had a hunch that keeping her at my side might be the biggest challenge I’d ever faced.